<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>[New Draft] by 061828</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26656006">[New Draft]</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/061828/pseuds/061828'>061828</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Hood/Arsenal (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bittersweet Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, i don't know how to tag, no beta we die like jason, seriously help me, sort of???, there we go</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:47:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,578</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26656006</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/061828/pseuds/061828</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>[New draft]</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <s>I’m finally getting hitched</s><br/><s>Tying The Knot Official Words</s></p><p> <br/>Wedding Vows</p><p>by roy harper, <s>putting the laughter in manslaughter since 1983</s></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dick Grayson &amp; Roy Harper, Roy Harper &amp; Koriand'r &amp; Jason Todd, Roy Harper/Jason Todd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>78</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>[New Draft]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>another tumblr drabble, but this one more closely resembles an actual fic, so it's going on here. inspired by ghost stories by the narcissist cookbook. hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>[New draft]</em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <s>I’m finally getting hitched</s>
  </p>
  <p>
    <s>Tying The Knot Official Words</s>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Wedding Vows</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>by roy harper, </em>
    <s>
      <em>putting the laughter in manslaughter since 1983</em>
    </s>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A couple years ago, you asked me why I loved you, and I said “I-I don’t know.” ‘Cept you weren’t really happy with that answer, I could tell, so I tried to put it in words. I mean, I’ve loved a lot of people in my life, or at least I thought I did. Look how that turned out. And, you know, I kind of write them off when they leave me, or when I leave them, because obviously that means it couldn’t have been love in the first place. And since it wasn’t love in the first place, why not just write it off, you know? And I was about halfway through this awful explanation when Dick gave us a call, told us that dealer we were tracking had just put his dirty little hands in Bludhaven, so we went to go deal with that.</p>
  <p>Both of us were glad that conversation was over, and I’m pretty sure you forgot all about it. But, see, I didn’t. I never forgot about it, and I realized I never really answered your question. So, here goes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I mean, I guess I thought I was so <em>fucking smart</em> when you met me. Sure, I was at my absolute lowest. But I was 23 and reckless, and the heroin had me feeling like a real person for the first time, you know? A human being, with the kind of secrets real people keep, telling the kind of lies real people tell. And I thought I loved the way real people loved. Always on the move, always <em>leaving</em>. Because it was either leave or get left. And I thought that was love. And I thought that was a <em>brilliant</em> idea. I was all dark and tough and had this tragic backstory, and I thought I was fucking irresistible, but only for a night. I thought I was fucking irresistible for a night, and after that I wasn’t worth <em>shit</em>.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Now, I’m looking back at 23 year old me and the only thought going through my head was <em>man</em> what a <em>dick</em>. Just, everything about me was supremely dickish. But most of all, it was the way I treated relationships. Fucking. Dick. Do you remember that time you, me, and Kori went to that carnival? And Kori won that strength competition and we got free ice cream at that one creamery? And I just <em>gorged</em> myself on ice cream, man. I was worse that Wally used to be, back in the day. And then we went on all those carnival rides and I thought to myself, I’d be fine. I run around jumping off rooftops with grappling arrows, and I used to practice marital arts with Dick Grayson. Motion sickness doesn’t happen to me. And then like half an hour later I was puking my guts out and you stood there and laughed at me? That. That’s how I treated love. I leeched all that I could from people, and it was way more than I could handle, and then I’d throw it all up and run away. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I’m not 23 anymore, but <em>god</em>, I’m still running. Except I can’t get away with what I used to do, ‘cause Kori can hear my fucking heartbeat and you check my arms for track marks all the time and Dick bribed his way into being my second emergency contact after you. So I hide away in my room and sort of melt onto my sofa. But not the good melting, like the way I melt into your mouth like creamy chocolate. The gross kind of melting where I’m curled up onto the couch and I just wanna hack all my hair off with a knife and it feels like my brain is leaking all over the sofa and I know you killed my old dealer but I wanna bring him back to life because just one more hit, I just need <em>one more hit</em>, and I wanna drink myself into a rage but you locked away all the alcohol with a bat-lock that even I can’t break. Figures. It’s funny. You’ll shoot yourself in the neck before you go to Bruce for <em>anything</em>, but if it’s for me, you’ll swallow your pride in a second and get whatever the hell you need. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I guess I’m just scared. I’m scared that I’m imaginary, and that I reinvent myself every single day to spare other people the trouble of having to do that for me. That who I am always comes before what I want everyone else to see. (And god that last sentence sounds like something Dick would say, but we did grow up together.) I’m scared that I’ve lost it, that I’m crazy, that I’ve finally gone mad. But I’m even more scared that I’m perfectly sane. Because if I’m sane, then what excuse do I have? What excuse do I have for treating people the way I do, like they’re problems that I have to solve or explain or else I’ll just fall behind everyone else.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And that’s where you come in. Fuck, Jay. That’s, that’s when you came in.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I tried to word vomit that last part to you one night when you thought I was drunk and I thought you were drunk but neither of us had had a drop, and we hid behind the curtain of alcohol to have a heart to heart. And you told me people don’t have to be solved or explained. We’re all just ghost stories, and maybe we should just try to stay that way. Because we spend our days doing wonderful things, horrible things, and sometimes there’s no reason behind it. Or, wait, fuck, no. There is a reason. But that reason’s too simple and too straightforward to really be satisfying, you know? And then we keep forgetting the lesson that we learned and re-mystifying these problems that we already solved because deep down we don’t actually want to figure out why we love each other but hurt each other and-</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Fuck. Sorry, Jaybird. This was supposed to be a simple answer to a simple question.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I think. Um. No, I don’t think. I <em>know</em>. I know I love you because I have to.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There’s no “why” about it. Any more than there’s a reason why Kori loves the dew drops that gather in the morning grass, or why that old hag in the apartment next to us can’t keep a plant alive for the life of her. I mean, I guess there is a reason. There’s always a reason, there’s always a “why.” I don’t really understand it, though. And you know how much that bothers me, you gotta know how much I hate that. Maybe if I dug around in myself for a bit, really thought some stuff through, talked to some people I thought I was done talking to, I’d figure it out. I’d figure out where all this love comes from. What it’s for.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But then the question would be answered. Why do I love you? Boom, I’d have an explanation. The ghost story would be over. And there’s really no point in telling a ghost story that has an ending, all nice and neat and wrapped up in a little package.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Right now, I think I’m finally at a place where I can just let it be. It’s just you and me. Me sleeping ‘till noon, then waking up to see you in my kitchen, looking like a fucking greek god reincarnated, a smile on your face that I don’t think anyone else but me gets to see, flipping an omelette with the same ease and grace that you flip knives. Me in fiddling with a couple spare parts, adding on to my arrows, and you either sliding up behind me, wrapping your arms around my waist and whispering in my ear how good I look in this old tank top or you throwing a greasy rag at my face and laughing at how it messed up the bun I had my hair put up in and telling me to wash up, dinner’s in 10. The two of us crowding around a set of blueprints, scheming and figuring out how to best hurt this one greedy asshole and send him down the highway to hell. And you honestly know all my secrets, all the dark thoughts I had when I was doped up and hating the world and everyone in it. And I’m the only one who knows what really happened in that funky green goo you call a Lazarus Pit, I’m the only one who knows what you went through under the League. The fact that we don’t have any secrets gives me this feeling in my chest, it’s warm and golden and sorta like how you feel with Dick Grayson smiles at you, except this time I think I caused it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I just hope to god I’m right when I say “I love you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>‘Cause I do. Jason. I love you. I just, fuck. I like being around you. And for the first time in a long while, I don’t think I’m going anywhere.</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Fuck. That was stupid. This barely even made sense anyway. </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>[Are you sure you want to delete this document?]</em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>[Document deleted]</em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>[New draft]</em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Wedding Vows.</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>From Roy Harper. To Jason Todd. </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>honestly this was long and rambly and didn't make much sense. i shouldn't be allowed to write.</p><p>anyway, comments and kudos are my lifeline, i'd love if you gave me some!</p><p>you can find me on tumblr at <a href="https://river-bottom-nightmare.tumblr.com/">river-bottom-nightmare</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>